


Where is the ripcord

by dotfic



Category: Under the Red Hood
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-24
Updated: 2010-12-24
Packaged: 2017-10-14 02:12:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/144200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dotfic/pseuds/dotfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maybe this, whatever it was they were doing, was Dick holding onto the line while it started to fray, refusing to let go.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Where is the ripcord

**Author's Note:**

  * For [musesfool](https://archiveofourown.org/users/musesfool/gifts).



> Written for musesfool. Set after the "Under the Red Hood" movie, in some vague pocket of continuity that makes allusions to DC Comics canon character histories. Title from R.E.M. Thank you to my wonderful beta reader.

The pause between the startled moment of discovery and when the bullets started flying, that bubble of momentarily coiled silence, usually lasted about six seconds. Not that Dick had actually counted recently, but it was something he'd first noticed when he was a kid, and that breath of time always seemed to be about the same.

Five gun-runners raised their MP5s with a click of metal that sounded like the hard shells of scarabs, and hell if Jason wasn't actually _laughing_ as he aimed two handguns in response. Dick full-body tackled him just as the gun-runners opened fire, filling the air with bullets.

The weaknesses in the structure of the abandoned building gave out as Dick and Jason slammed to the floor. The old wooden boards cracked and snapped beneath them, a counterpoint to the snap and spit of the machine gun fire. They fell, Dick gripping Jason's shoulders to position things so Jason didn't get too battered on the way down, and it was only when Jason twisted at the last second Dick realized Jason was trying to shield _him_. Irritation twisted through Dick at that -- first of all, the Nightwing costume was far better layered in protective Kevlar than Jason's body armor, and second of all, Dick didn't even know what the second of all was, but it existed, and it bothered him.

Dick managed to land first, taking the brunt of the impact, all thought and breath shoved from his body. Jason landed heavy on top of him. Somehow Jason had holstered his guns, must've done it right when the floor gave way. His gloved hands splayed against Dick's torso.

The creeps upstairs would all be following them there in a second.

"That was a dumbass move," Dick said, trying to shove Jason off of him. "I had this."

Jason resisted, hands moving to Dick's waist. He snorted. "Yeah. Sure you did."

"Idiot." Dick jammed his knee into Jason's stomach, and Jason rolled off smoothly, getting to his feet in one continuous motion. Dick ignored the hand Jason reached down to him, was already up himself, darting for the windows.

There was no point going for the stairs. The gun-runners would be on them any second. "You shouldn't have interfered."

"You know who you sound like, right?" Jason raised a window sash sticky with grime, grunting with the effort, letting in a blast of cold air. "Those assholes were my territory."

"No, they're not, they were mine, I was on it, and you screwed it up." Dick had to practically bite his tongue to keep from adding something like _shut up, I so do not sound like what you think I sound like_ , and besides, he knew that he did.

They crouched on the thin ledge, facing each other, wind gusting past them. From inside, they heard the gun-runners reaching their floor, voices growing sharper and angrier when they couldn't find anyone, only a littering of broken boards.

Jason leapt. Dick found himself watching the arch of Jason's back, the feral grace in the way his arms spread before he tucked in and did a somersault to land on the scaffolding of the next building. It made Dick's chest ache weirdly.

He followed Jason's trajectory -- it was an easy jump. He couldn't let him run off without keeping tabs on him, not right in the middle of this, not with Jason wading right into Dick's careful clockwork. But Jason always seemed to be wading into his clockwork lately, far too precise for a stumble, yet bringing a sense of chaos with his lack of balance.

"Stop it," Dick said, when he caught up with Jason on a low rooftop. The lights of New Trigate Bridge glimmered behind him.

"Stop what?" Jason tilted his head to one side, all sharp-edged challenge, his voice going low.

"Let me do my job." Dick took a step closer, resisting the urge to punch him in the gut, to hear the wind go out of his lungs in a gasp, to shock him and make him listen.

"We have the same job."

They'd had the same job once. That was the problem. Jason had been lost, then found again -- and they'd lose him a second time if Jason kept going the way he did. Maybe this, whatever it was they were doing, was Dick holding onto the line while it started to fray, refusing to let go.

"No, we don't." The words snapped out too harshly.

Jason's shoulders twitched at that, a very slight movement that might've been a flinch, before he raised his head and tugged off the hood, leaving only the mask over his eyes. His face looked thin and vulnerable, older than Dick remembered it looking back then, in ways beyond having to do with age or normal growth spurts.

It would've been easy enough to side-step and avoid Jason, but Dick didn't. Jason shoving Dick up against the roof-access door, moving in so his mouth hovered inches over Dick's but he didn't touch. Up this close, Dick could look Jason in the eye, saw the person that could've been, if things had been different. Jason waited, breathing only a little harder than usual, until Dick reached up to put his gloved fingers at the back of Jason's head, digging into his hair as he pulled him the rest of the way down.

This was such a very, very bad idea, even worse that Jason always seemed to know just where and how to touch so that Dick's nerve-endings went off like firecrackers. Jason slid a hand up the inside of Dick's thigh, his tongue pushing into Dick's mouth, and Dick tasted him back. Their fingers found zippers, openings, pushing in to stroke warm skin, while Jason's mouth moved downwards, tongue dipping into the hollow beneath Dick's jaw while Dick thrust against his hand.

Jason smelled familiar, of Kevlar and sweat. Equally familiar was the touch of cold air along with fingers, mouth, and tongue on exposed areas of skin, the particular humming sound of wind across a rooftop. Some things he'd rather forget, some things that he never wanted to. Jason inhaled sharply, let out a low, broken, barely audible _yes_ as they each quickened their movements, and Dick moaned before he could stifle the sound.

Dick came first, head thrown back, knowing Jason was watching him, smug and getting off on seeing what he could do to him. When Jason came, breathing ragged, his face was tucked into the curve where Dick's neck met his shoulder, and he slumped against Dick afterwards, falling into a moment of rare stillness.

For a moment, Dick thought he felt the line hold, before Jason shoved away from him with a grin, gathered himself back together quickly, and was gone.

The wind felt colder. Feeling slightly ridiculous, Dick quickly tucked in and zipped up before he leaned against the door for a second, taste and scent of sex lingering. He slammed his fist against the metal, once, before he pulled out his rappelling gun. He fired, felt the tug as the hook found purchase, and leapt in the opposite direction than Jason had gone, without looking back.


End file.
